Now that the clock has struck a sparrow
from the blue chantry of the sky
and our love lays dormant in the glare
of impossible odds-
and sundry escapades
of ill delights
masquerading as dour crumbs
from a soiled banquet
of delicious noise.
Now that the goat
on the slab
is Us,

Trolling sacrifice for a constant gardener-
howling at the broken waves
of our engineered Sea
of displaced heavens…
having chosen the doldrums of a spoiled
expanse of serene idiocy.
cackling like glowworms
in a nitrous ****
of deleted inhalation.
the wraith of my heart,
disjoined from our forever
like a pinwheel
in a dead calm.

burning.

Always.